by Imani King
“Yeah, we’ll be careful. Love you too.”
When Jackson hangs up, he turns slightly in the seat. “Mom said everything is fine, but the snow is really coming down. The weather station issued a snow advisory for their area.”
“Will we be able to land?”
“Yeah. It’s probably not too bad yet.” He grins. “Mom tends to overreact.”
A flight that should normally take about ninety minutes stretches beyond two hours as Jackson fights for visibility and relies on Skip to guide him in during the landing. It feels like my hands might remain in a permanent clench until we finally touch down on the runway.
I’m never flying again. It had been nerve-racking and left me nauseated. Worst of all, we’d been unable to call Lillian to let her know we were running late. The cell didn’t send or receive transmissions because of the storm.
We left the plane’s maintenance to Skip and hurry to the truck. Jackson dumps the bags in the area behind his seat, climbs in and starts the engine, turning the heater up full blast. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”
I shiver. “I’ve seen much worse in Kansas, but I wasn’t in a plane then.”
Jackson squeezes my hand. “We made it through just fine. When we get home, I’ll make you a cocoa and Kahlua to soothe your nerves.”
I check my safety belt. “We have to get through this snow first.”
Jackson shrugs, appearing relaxed as he drives cautiously from the lot. “We will.”
The tires spin as we hit a patch of ice, sending the truck fishtailing. I bite back a cry and grasp the handle above my window. Jackson quickly regains control. I close my eyes as he gets onto the road, deciding I would feel better if I didn’t see what was coming our way. My body remains rigid during the half-hour it takes Jackson to get the Toyota into our driveway.
I finally open my eyes and frown when I see a Jeep Wrangler in the drive. Snow is piled high on its tires, but tread marks indicated the vehicle was stuck and had tried to get out. “Who is that?”
Jackson shrugs. “I don’t know.” He curses as the truck shudders to a halt. He shifts to a different gear and hits the accelerator. The truck bucks and slides to the left. “It looks like we’re stuck too. Can you walk to the house in those shoes?”
I nod. “My feet will get soaked, but at least I didn’t wear heels.” I look down at the tennis shoes and shake my head. Why hadn’t I worn the water repellent hiking boots I’d picked up at that sporting goods store in San Francisco?
Jackson passes me a small case, grabbing the bags and the other suitcase. “Are you ready?”
I nod and push open the door, bracing myself for the cold. I gasp with surprise anyway when my feet sink into snow up to my ankles. Jackson makes it to the front of the truck and holds out his hand. Stinging snow pelts my uncovered skin coming in a sideways drift.
I clutch Jackson’s hand and we battle our way to the porch. The steps are icy, I nearly fall. He holds onto my arm, dropping a case in the process. Jackson indicates I should go on up and bends over to retrieve the case.
I clear the stairs and pause to wait for him under the shelter of the porch. I feel bad when I watch him come up with all our bags. When he’s close enough, I go over and take one of the shopping bags. “We should have left all of this in the truck.”
Jackson shrugs. “Probably, but I didn’t want Mom’s Ghirardelli chocolate to freeze.”
“You’re so sweet.” I kiss his cold cheek and we walk to the front door. I shiver as he fumbles with the key, finally fitting it in the lock. But before he turns the key, the door opens.
Huh, that’s weird.
Jackson frowns and steps inside first. I follow. The moment I’m in, I kick off my wet shoes and unzip my coat. I drape it over the coat rack to dry. “How about that cocoa and Kahlua?” I ask, teeth chattering.
Jackson turns to look at me. He’s still got a worried frown on his face. “Do you notice how quiet it is?”
I wrap my arms around my chest. “Quiet?”
“Tamara usually makes some kind of noise. They must’ve heard us open the door.” Jackson drops the bags and luggage before moving to the hallway. “Stay here.”
I’m staying put! Panic starts to surge in my veins. Yes, Tamara did usually make a sound when the front door opened. This, combined with that strange jeep in the driveway, is starting to get me concerned.
I stay close to his back. Jackson sighs, but doesn’t ask me to stay again.
Smart man.
We stop in the doorway of the sitting room. It looks like Lillian’s asleep in her chair.
Her bloody chair.
I gasp, stumbling over her cane. It’s several feet out of her reach.
Jackson rushes to his mother’s side. I follow. He pushes two fingers to her neck.
“She’s still alive. Call 9-1-1, Shawna.”
I nod and rush to the phone. I lift the receiver to my ear. “Dead,” I whisper.
“Probably the weather,” Jackson says. He fishes his cell out of his pocket. “No reception.”
I sink to my knees. “What happened?”
Jackson materializes by my side. “Stay with me, okay? You can’t fall apart. I need you to focus.”
I take a deep breath. He is right. Something is going on, and we have to figure out how to save Lillian. “What do we do about your mother?”
“I don’t know. Keep trying the phones. I’m going upstairs to check on Tamara and Lindsay.”
Then, he rushes up the stairs.
45
Jackson
My mother is battered and unconscious, and I feel like a part of me is dying downstairs with her. Each second that passes could be her last. And each second that passes without finding the baby or Lindsay feels like an eternity.
Where are they?
The nursery has signs of a rushed escape. Diapers are scattered on the floor. Clothes are ripped from the dresser. I don’t see either of them in the room, but Lindsay’s thick glasses are near the mirror. There’s a crack in the lens and the frame is bent, suggesting they have been stepped on.
My stomach knots tighter and tighter as I move through each room on the second floor. No sign of them. I move to the upper floor. Still no sign. Time to go back to the main floor. In the study, I find the first indication of who is responsible. I gather up some of the shredded paper and return to the sitting room.
Shawna presses a cloth to my mother’s head wound. The cordless phone is on the floor beside her. When she looks up, her expression is one of suppressed terror. “Tamara?”
Jackson shakes his head and holds up long strips of shredded paper. “The custody agreement my attorney drafted. He took the time to shred it.”
Shawna shakes. “No, it can’t be Brad. He doesn’t want Tamara. He wouldn’t take her.”
“He did.” I drop the shredded agreement and walk to Shawna, kneeling beside her. Once again, I check for my mother’s pulse and breathe a sigh of relief when I feel it. “Any luck with the phones?”
“No. They’re still out.” Shawna clutches my hand. “Why did he take our baby?”
I stand. “I don’t know. Revenge?” I pace. “He had to leave on foot or by horse. His vehicle was snowed in, and he couldn’t risk calling a cab.”
“Why not?”
“He must have taken Lindsay too.” I take a deep breath, but it isn’t enough to stop my vision from blurring. “I don’t know why he brought her. Maybe because Tamara cried when he picked her up?”
Shawna’s hand flies to her mouth. “Where are they?”
I shut my eyes. Think! Brad couldn’t have gone far. He needed shelter. They were probably still on the property. My eyes dart to the eastern side of the house. “The bunkhouse.”
“What?”
“There’s a bunkhouse about a half-mile from here, left over from the days when the ranch was a working business.”
“Why would he go there?”
“He had nowhere else. When he was a boy and Father occasionally bro
ught him to the ranch, he used to sleep there and pretend he was a cowboy.”
Shawna gets to her feet. “I’m coming with you.”
Jackson shakes his head. “Absolutely not. You’re staying here with Mom.”
“But—”
“Please.” I look at my mother, and allow all the pain I’m feeling to fill my gaze. “I need to know she’s safe.”
Shawna inhales sharply.
“Let me go,” I tell her. “I’ll be faster on my own, and a few minutes might make all the difference.”
Shawna looks down. “Hurry,” she says in a voice thick with tears. “Bring her back.”
I waste no time. First, I need more layers if I’m going to venture into near-blizzard conditions. I hated taking the extra time, but I’d do no one any good if I died. I rush upstairs, removing my jeans and shirt as I go. I pull on a pair of long johns before sliding my legs into jeans again. I put on a long-sleeved shirt and two sweaters before changing into sturdy boots.
I stop by the nursery to grab the baby carrier on my way out, adjusting the straps as I rush down the stairs.
“Keep trying the phone!” I call out when I reach the door, pulling a heavy coat over my shoulders.
“Be careful!” Shawna calls back.
I feel a knot in my throat. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I hurry out. How could I have been so stupid to leave Mom and Tamara unprotected? I’d thought Brad had accepted the relationship after nothing happened at the wedding. I’d been a fool. Now, Lindsay had even been pulled into this.
I make my way to the stables. Two horses, perhaps unsurprisingly, are gone. There was only one problem with Brad’s plan: to my knowledge, he hadn’t ridden a horse since was eight-years-old. That would slow him down, perhaps fatally in weather like this. He also was riding with a baby and young girl. I still had a chance of catching him.
Daisy is resistant to the idea of getting saddled and riding in the snow, but I get her moving with a handful of oats. She’s old and set in her ways, but she’s still fast.
46
Shawna
Just barely, I resist the urge to throw the phone across the room. Every time I pick it up I hear nothing. Not even a dial tone.
Lillian’s breathing remains steady. The bleeding seems to have slowed, but it hasn’t stopped.
And Jackson...I wonder when I’ll hear from Jackson. It’s been over thirty minutes since he left. I hate that he’s out there alone, but he’s right. Someone has to watch out for Lillian, and focus on getting help. If only the damn phone would work!
Outside, snow continues to fall from the sky. They aren’t the moist, flakey type of snowflakes, but the solid, icy balls designed to stick.
Beep!
I freeze. A voice comes from the other room, warning of an impending snowstorm that would hit several counties.
The TV is on!
I run to the doorway to see the graphic from the weather channel fill the screen. Hood River county is colored completely white.
No time to lose. I almost sob when I see I have one bar! The reception might not be the best, but it should work.
I dial 9-1-1 and wait.
“Emergency 9-1-1,” a crackly voice answers.
I’d gotten through! I feel like cheering, but there’s no time. I have to tell them what’s going on and get help.
47
Jackson
Thank God I’m wearing goggles. I pat Daisy’s neck and urge her to continue. “I’ll be your eyes, sweetie,” I tell her. “If we get through this, I am going to make sure you are the most pampered horse on the planet. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
It is really coming down, but there’s no turning back. I must find Tamara.
Daisy, being the independent older lady that she is, shakes her head and neighs. I pat her neck again. I want to urge her more quickly, but I’m afraid that if I do she’ll collapse. Still, I need to be patient. The bunkhouse is close.
Suddenly, I see a vague, solid shape against the snow. My heart soars. The bunkhouse. Gently, I kick Daisy’s side and wince when she flinches. “Sorry girl,” I say, doubting she can hear me. The
The bunkhouse suddenly comes into view. It is a vague, solid shape against the snow. I tuck my body in lower against Daisy and kick her side. I wince and pat her neck when she flinches. “Sorry, girl,” I say, doubting she hears me. The sound of the wind swallows the words before they can travel to her ears.
As I watch, Brad stops the stallion and gets down. Then he walks over to Lindsay and lifts her from the horse. When she turns, Jackson sees her holding something bulky in her arms.
I should rein in the horse and wait for Brad to go inside, but I can’t stop myself. I kick Daisy into a gallop—it’s as much as she can manage through the snow—and rush toward them.
Brad looks up and catches sight of me. He roughly pushes Lindsay toward the cabin and turns to climb back into the saddle. His foot gets stuck in the stirrup, and he appears to be frantically trying to free himself.
All the while, I am getting closer. I pull hard on Daisy’s reins when I am a few feet from Brad and hop off the horse. I stride toward him with one dark purpose in mind. I break into a run and tackle Brad, ripping him free of the stirrup in the process. I smash my fist into my brother’s face.
Brad surprises me with a kick to the stomach, and rolls away as I gasp for air. He gain his feet and stands over me. “You didn’t think I would let you have them both, did you?”
I struggle to my feet, ducking out of the way when Brad tries to kick me again. “I should have known you couldn’t. Shawna warned me about you, but I didn’t listen.” I draw in ragged breaths, trying to ignore the burning in my stomach. “She’s just a baby. How can you do this? Even you, Brad, shouldn’t think this is right. Or sane. Or normal.”
Brad flinches. “She has to pay.”
“For what? Not wanting you?” I watch my brother cautiously. He is searching his pockets, the bulge might be a weapon. My brother used to be a good shot, but he doesn’t appear to have a gun.
Brad’s face—already red from the wind—turns a darker red. “She left me without a word! I didn’t know whom she was with, or what she was doing. Shawna had no right to do that.”
I shake my head. This is no time to listen to Brad rant. “It’s freezing out here. We have to get the kids back to the house.”
Brad laughs. “I’m not going back. You can’t have the kid too. She’s mine.”
“If you’d wanted a baby, you wouldn’t have brought Tami to me,” Jackson points out. “You don’t want her. You only want to hurt Shawna for moving on with her life.”
His lips twist. “She moved on with you. My own brother,” he says bitterly. “Do you know how that feels?”
“I don’t have time for this.” I push past him and hurry to the cabin. Something causes me to turn my head a few steps from the door, just in time to see Brad swinging a tree branch. I try to block it with my arm but the limb connects with my jaw and forearm. I cry out and fall to my knees, clutching my arm. It feels squishy, and I know it is broken. His head doesn’t feel much better.
I look up as Brad stands over me with the branch, preparing to bring it down again. I sway, fighting off blackness around the edges of my vision. “You really want to do this?” I manage to force out through gritted teeth. “Kidnapping is bad enough. You’ll get life for murder.”
Brad brings his arm back, but pauses. He seems to be struggling with himself.
“Guess I’m just like the pony.” I try to stay on my knees, but the ground rushes toward me. I blunt the fall with my good arm, but it still jolts me. I am not unconscious yet, but I know it isn’t far off.
We both look toward the cabin as Lindsay screams and comes running out the open doorway. Her body shakes and she’s still scream. It takes a moment before her garbled sounds become legible. “Cat! There’s a cat.”
Brad lowers the branch. “What?”
“A b
obcat,” she sobs. “It’s between the door and the baby.”
I try to get to his feet, but my head refuses to cooperate. “Brad.”
Brad looks down, his face is filled with terror. “What?”
“You have to get Tamara. I can’t. You’re the only one.” I gasp with exhaustion forcing out the last word.
He shakes his head. “I’m not going in there.”
“She’ll die, and it will be your fault.” I try to stand again and succeed in making it to my knees. “Tamara is your daughter. Can you let her be killed?”
Brad hesitates for a second before grasping the limb and striding into the cabin.
Lindsay comes forward and helps me to my feet. I try not to lean too heavily on her as I make my way over to a tree and use it for support. “Get the horses.”
Lindsay looks terrified, but she pushes her way through the snow to the horses without a word of complaint.
We both froze when a growling sound, followed by a cry of pain, issues from inside the bunkhouse. Another squeal of pain follows, but it clearly isn’t human. Seconds later, Brad comes running from the building, carrying Tamara wrapped tightly in a blanket..
Lindsay brings the horses to me as Brad trudges toward us. The left shoulder of his coat is torn open, and he is bleeding freely. When he gets to us, he thrusts the baby into my arms,
“We need to get out of here now. The mom can’t be far away. I don’t want to be here when she finds her kitten knocked out.”
Though I am very weak, I manage to hold Tamara and help Lindsay slip her into the carrier. Lindsay climbs onto the gelding and I try to mount Daisy with only one good arm. To my surprise, Brad helps me mount. I clutch the reins to steady myself. My tongue feels thick when I say, “Call an ambulance and have them waiting.”
Brad shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“We need help, for God’s sake—”
His expression is grim. “I lost my cell phone. You’ll have to get them home without help.”